Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TO MONTACUTE, by JOHN COWPER POWYS Poet's Biography First Line: O thou at memory's holiest shrine caressed Last Line: Is to the heart that loves already given. Subject(s): Birds; Children; Dreams; Love; Memory; Mythology - Classical; Orpheus; Sleep; Childhood; Nightmares | ||||||||
O Thou at Memory's holiest shrine caressed Sweet-wooded Citadel of loves that grow Like hidden violets hushed at Nature's breast, Of hopes that like enchanted rivers flow Beyond the seas, beyond the utmost star, Where foamless islands of Elysium are. No greener fields, no fairer-gabled street Have e'er the roseate hues of evening worn, Or heard the skylark's carol silver-sweet Kiss both the dewy cheeks of blushing morn, A paradise of pleasures still secure From the world's voice profane and touch impure. Here undisturbed may dusky Dryads dream That Pan with all his music haunteth still The beechen hollow and the reedy rill, That Orpheus seated by each murmuring stream Harps till fair Hyacinths forget to weep And Daffodils dance-weary sink to sleep. Here birds may build, bees toil and flowers unfold, Troubled by naught but gently whisp'ring wind, Altars inviolate here the Dove may find In consecrated shade of pine-trees old; And he who walks by moonlight oft may see The fairies at their mazy minstrelsy. O childhood, whose soft eyes and rippling hair, Whose tender, pleading tones and looks divine Unravel all the woof of life's despair, And flood out midnight with the morning's wine, A dearer charm hast thou, a sweeter tongue, Than any song that poet ever sung. Old shadows haunt thy paths, old memories dear. There rose the towers of castled Camelot, And here the golden curls of Guinevere, Mix with the dust of him she once forgot. Here white-stoled nuns froze their sweet blood with prayer, And only knew in dreams that Spring was fair. So evermore between a sleep and sleep We mortals toil, and know not our own souls, And still beneath our feet life's ocean rolls. Above God's stars their patient watches keep: We pray -- but lo! the largeness of High Heaven Is to the heart that loves already given. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VARIATIONS: 14 by CONRAD AIKEN VARIATIONS: 18 by CONRAD AIKEN LIVE IT THROUGH by DAVID IGNATOW A DREAM OF GAMES by JOSEPHINE JACOBSEN THE DREAM OF WAKING by RANDALL JARRELL APOLOGY FOR BAD DREAMS by ROBINSON JEFFERS GIVE YOUR WISH LIGHT by ROBINSON JEFFERS |
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